


Like Scars, These Marks Define Us

by penstrikesmidnight



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Insecurity, Loneliness, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27868381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penstrikesmidnight/pseuds/penstrikesmidnight
Summary: Hajime hasn't thought about his soulmarks in years, not since his and Tooru's last big fight over them. He has other things to worry about, namely, finishing school. Tooru is obsessed with his soulmarks and has been since he was little. No matter what fate or anyone says, he's convinced Hajime is his soulmate. Wakatoshi hasn't met his soulmate yet, and he's perfectly fine with that. He leads a perfectly nice life playing the sport that he loves.Maybe soulmates aren't as simple as people say. Maybe each story is unique. And maybe the three of them can find that little piece that's been missing in their lives.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38
Collections: HQ Polyam Bang





	Like Scars, These Marks Define Us

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the HQ Polyam Bang! The stunning artwork for this fic was done by Fish, who was such a pleasure to work with! Thank you so much for everything!
> 
> This fic has been really fun and really exhausting to write. There are some spoilers littered throughout, but I started writing this before the manga ended so there are also a lot of creative liberties as well. Enjoy part one, and part two and three should be up within the next week or so!
> 
> So sorry if the art is formatted funny, I'll be fixing that!

Hajime has resigned himself to the fact that he will live in a state of constant tiredness for the foreseeable future. He'd thought the last two years of his undergrad had been hard, but this first year of clinicals was kicking his ass. If he didn't already love his work, he would have quit long ago.

He uses the tiredness as the excuse for not immediately recognizing the person who sits across from him at his usual back corner table in the café he frequents when he knows he has an all-nighter looming. It doesn't even really _register_ that another person has sat down until he blinks himself back to the present and realizes that there is a shadow on the table that wasn't there before. Hajime looks to his side, even though he knows there isn't a waiter next to the table, then turns his attention to the chair across from him.

Ushijima Wakatoshi doesn't look much different than he did in high school, just bigger and a little older. His gaze on Hajime is unwavering, a little curious, not the least bit self-conscious. "Iwaizumi-san, how are you today?"

Hajime blinks. He wonders how Ushijima remembers him. It has been four years since their paths had last crossed. It is one thing for Hajime to know Ushijima in the present, playing with the Schweiden Adlers and sponsored by some of the biggest sport drinks and clothing lines in the world. It is another thing entirely for Ushijima to recognize Hajime--a too-tired, barely-scraping-by almost-physical therapist, especially without Tooru by his side.

Hajime has taken a little too long to answer Ushijima's question, but Ushijima just sits there calmly, raising his glass to his lips, waiting for Hajime to get his bearings. Hajime finally says, "Oh, I'm fine. How are you?"

Ushijima nods. "I am well, thank you. My practices are starting to get more strenuous, but I enjoy the challenge. Kageyama is a very good setter."

Hajime nods. He takes a bite of his bagel, following it up with a swig of his coffee, trying to get his bearings. "Do you come here often?" he finally asks.

Ushijima nods. Hajime watches as Ushijima deconstructs his sandwich, reorganizing it so everything is as perfectly aligned as possible. Instead of replacing the top slice of bread, Ushijima keeps it to the side. He picks up a fork and knife and proceeds to cut a bite-sized piece. "This place is just across the street from my apartment and only a fifteen minute walk from our gym. I like their coffee here better than the stand they have there. I was sure I had seen you on a few Wednesday mornings, but you are usually in a rush. I have not wanted to interrupt your routine, so I am glad I caught you here tonight."

"Wednesday mornings I work across town," Hajime answers. By Ushijima's stoic persona, Hajime hadn't thought he would be a talker, but so far, he has carried the conversation while Hajime flounders in it. Hajime blinks. He can do this. Sure, the only person he really talks to outside of work or school is Tooru, but he's not so hopeless that he can't make small talk. "I'm sorry I haven't noticed you before."

Ushijima shakes his head. "It is no problem. Like I said, you seem very distracted whenever I see you."

Hajime wills his cheeks not to heat up in embarrassment. How rude had he been? How long had Ushijima been watching him while he walked like a zombie through his days?

Two girls sidle up to their table, one of them clutching a notebook, the other her cellphone. Ushijima looks at them, unsurprised, and Hajime is shocked when he gives a small, endearing smile to the two fans. "Can...Can we get a picture?"

"Of course," Ushijima stands. "Iwaizumi-san, would you mind?"

Numbly, he takes the cell phone and snaps the picture, flashing back to the horror of Oikawa during their high school days as he does so. He watches as Ushijima signs the proffered paper, thanking the girls for their support. They giggle as they wave goodbye, and the bell jingles cheerfully as they leave. Hajime braces himself for the next wave of fans, but the café stays quiet, the only difference some side-eyed looks in their direction.

Ushijima settles back in his seat as if nothing had happened, picking up his fork and knife and making another precise cut. Hajime feels like he has walked into an alternate reality. He wonders if he is hallucinating this whole encounter and vows to sleep more consistently and drink less caffeine.

"That hasn't happened to me in years," Hajime finally ventures. "Not since Tooru left for Argentina."

"Ah, yes, I have followed his career off and on. He is doing quite well for himself, by the looks of things." Ushijima hesitates, uncertain for the first time since sitting down. "I thought you would have gone with him. Because you are soulmates."

It has been a long time since Hajime had thought about that night, he and Tooru staring each other down in Tooru's bedroom. Hajime had just gotten his latest soulmark, a small, minimalist airplane on his left shoulder that couldn't mean anything else.

_Clearly, I wasn't enough._

The bell on the door chimes, startling Hajime. He meets Ushijima's calm, hazel eyes, which ground him back to their conversation. "Oh. We're not...I don't..." Hajime sighs. "I wanted to go into medicine here, because Tooru said he doesn't want to live abroad forever. He comes back to visit and I've been there a few times, so we make it work."

Hajime doesn't know how to tell Ushijima about his and Oikawa's soulmarks, the way they know for a fact they have marks for each other, but how they also have the weird times when they both get marks that have nothing to do with each other. How they have yet to get their link mark, solidifying their status as truly soulmates. How, deep down, Hajime is scared that he and Tooru had been wrong this whole time, that maybe they weren't soulmates at all.

"Ah," Ushijima says when it is clear Hajime is not going to elaborate. "It is nice that Oikawa will be back. Maybe we can meet up when he is in town. I assume he is coming to Tokyo, since you are here."

Hajime stares at his bagel. He swallows. He doesn't know why he feels the need to correct Ushijima, but he does. "We're not...I mean, I guess we are, but...technically we aren't...together. Exclusive."

Ushijima frowns. "I apologize. I misread the situation entirely, it seems."

"No, you aren't the only one." Hajime sighs. "I know how it looks. And we do. Love each other, I mean. It's just...It's a little more complicated for us, I guess."

Ushijima nods. "Well, I apologize for bringing up something so personal so soon. I haven't met my soulmate yet, as far as I know."

Soulmate talk is very common, but with the taboo surrounding Hajime's own soulmarks, Ushijima's confession seems like a shared secret, and Hajime feels strangely touched that he would share something like that, especially on a first encounter in years.

Hajime's alarm on his phone goes off. "Shit," he mutters, snoozing it. "Sorry, I have to get home and finish a paper. Are you...Do you want to meet up again?"

He doesn't know what prompts him to ask, other than the fact that Ushijima approached him first and he's curious as to why. 

"That would be nice," Ushijima says. "May I give you my number?"

Jitters erupt in Hajime's stomach as he passes over his phone, as if he is being asked on a date. He watches as Ushijima types. When Ushijima hands over the phone, Hajime notices the mark around the first knuckle of his right ring finger. When Hajime's eyes flick to Ushijima's thumb, he sees the ring of ink there, too.

"Are those volleyballs?" Hajime asks in shock. Ushijima glances down at his hand, as if he has never noticed them before, then nods. "That's so strange. I have those too, on my left hand."

He holds up his hand to show Ushijima the proof. Ushijima's eyebrows rise. "They are eerily similar. Interesting."

Hajime's alarm goes off again, and all thoughts of the soulmark coincidence are erased from his mind. He presses the snooze button a little more forcefully than necessary, then sends a quick message to Ushijima. "Now you have mine too. See you later?"

Ushijima nods with a smile. Hajime nods back then leaves, but his mind is preoccupied trying to figure out if he'd seen Ushijima smile before today. He likes it more than he thought he would.

"Shit," he says again. What is he going to tell Tooru?

* * *

Tooru lives for the Skype calls he and Hajime share every Saturday night (Sunday morning for Hajime). His first few years abroad had been great, full of parties, new culture, new friends. He'd gone through some pretty bad culture shock that Hajime helped him through, and had now settled quite nicely into a routine here.

Still, call it nostalgia, call it homesickness, but Tooru loves the first moment the call connects, watching Hajime's screen, without fail, jump all over as he situates himself. It's a sweet anticipation, Tooru's stomach fluttering every time, as if he is waiting for a date. Well, it's the closest thing he gets to a date nowadays anyway.

Hajime settles into his seat, propping his phone on the table. Tooru sees books strewn everywhere and the edge of Hajime's computer. "Aw, are you super busy again? It's not midterms yet, is it?"

"Almost," Hajime answers with a small smile. Tooru has to refrain from touching his screen. He usually has much more composure than this, but every once in a while his feelings just become too big. It's been months since he last saw Hajime in person, and the distance is wearing on him. "You look tired."

Tooru hums, settling back into his couch with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. "Kinda. We're just about ready to start a tournament, so practices have been a little intense. But! After this tournament, I'll be coming home for awhile! It'll be, like, beginning of April? Right before our season officially starts."

Hajime's face falls. Tooru continues talking quickly. "I know, I know. You have that big conference you're supposed to go to, but I'll be visiting for three weeks, so even when you have to go, I'll still have plenty of time with you. Maybe I'll go visit my parents."

Tooru relaxes when Hajime does. He runs his fingers across a new mark he had gotten about a week prior, a small cup of coffee on the inside of his right wrist. It is already fading, but Tooru likes the way it looks, the steam curling up to wrap around his thumb. Sometimes, Tooru takes pictures of his new marks when they appear. When he is sure they are definitely from Hajime, he messages them to him with a cute note telling him good luck on a test or asks him if there is any news he has to share. Tooru isn't sure about this one, so the picture will stay tucked away on his phone with all the other soulmarks that have come and gone across his body.

There is absolutely no way Hajime is not Tooru's soulmate.

"It'll be good to see you, that's for sure," Hajime says.

"Because Iwa-chan is too busy for his own good. You should really make some friends."

It is a rote teasing for the both of them, but Hajime doesn't follow it up with his usual mild insult. Instead, he stays quiet and bites his bottom lip, a sure sign that he's trying to work up the courage to say something he thinks Tooru isn't going to like.

Tooru sits up from his lounge on the couch, his blanket falling from his shoulders just slightly. "Don't worry," Hajime says before Tooru can ask him anything. "It's not anything big, I don't think. I saw Ushijima in a café the other day. We might hang out again."

"Ushijima _Wakatoshi_?" Tooru asks, as if they know any other Ushijimas that would cause Hajime to hesitate like that. The name itself makes Tooru's hackles rise.

Hajime scratches the back of his neck with a smile that looks more like a wince. "Uh, yeah. Look, it's probably not a big deal. And he approached me first, so what was I supposed to do? Tell him sorry, he can't sit in the empty seat across from me?"

"It's what I would have done," Tooru sulks, but he knows he's being ridiculous. Hajime must too, because he doesn't reprimand him. "You said he approached you first?"

"Yeah," Hajime says. He sounds on the brink of disbelief. Tooru wonders why Hajime is always so bashful about himself. It's not as if he's easily forgettable. He's an amazing athlete, played the same position Ushijima does, is caring and protective and doesn't shy away from challenges. "I don't think he has a lot of friends around."

Tooru shrugs. "Maybe if he had a little more tact."

Hajime rolls his eyes. "Mmm, you mean maybe if he said whatever needed to be said in order for people to like him. Speaking from experience?"

Tooru gives Hajime a rude gesture before collapsing back into his previous comfortable state. He smiles when Hajime laughs. "I guess, if you want to hang out with Ushijima, I won't be too jealous."

"Jealous that I'm the one who gets to spend time with him, or jealous that it's not you I'm spending time with?"

Tooru purses his lips. He feels the tips of his ears turn red and wills his blush to stay off of his face. He presses hard on his wrist, where the coffee cup still rests. "Clearly the second one."

Hajime hums. Tooru's fascination with Ushijima has clearly not passed Hajime's notice. Ushijima is just so...infuriating. Trying to be _helpful_ , as if Tooru wanted help. He could have been nicer, he guessed, but Tooru wasn't used to people being helpful without wanting something from him in return. And then his continual interest, as if Tooru had actually been _nice_ to him.

Sometimes, Tooru looks back on his life and sees the trail of guilt he has left behind him. He thinks it is fitting that Tobio-chan and Ushiwaka ended up on the same team, two of Tooru's biggest regrets banding together, stronger than they ever would have been with Tooru.

"Hey," Hajime says. "Talk to me."

Tooru huffs. "It's nothing! I mean, it all happened in high school, so it's not relevant."

"Anything that you're still thinking about like that is relevant," Hajime answers. Tooru tucks his head into the blanket. He hears Hajime shifting around and when he looks back up, he sees Hajime has grabbed a mug of tea and opened one of his books. "Can you study while you're still on the call?"

Hajime nods. Tooru smiles, grabbing a book of his own. Before Hajime gets too deep into his studying, Tooru says, "I'm thinking of starting classes. Maybe just online for a while, but, you know." He shrugs. "I'm thinking about home a lot."

"That's awesome," Hajime says. "Wherever you decide to go, I'm sure you'll do great."

They stay like that for about an hour, one or the other making an offhand comment every few minutes. The silence is comfortable.

Hajime finally forces Tooru to get off of the call when Tooru starts dozing over his book. "Sleep, dumbass. Don't overwork yourself."

Tooru wrinkles his nose. "I'm not! I just wanted to talk to you!"

Hajime snorts. "I don't want to watch your drooling face when you sleep."

"You love my sleeping face!"

Hajime smiles. "Only when it's in Japan. Have a good night."

"Love you!" Tooru calls out. He doesn't miss the way Hajime falters, the way he averts his eyes. Tooru holds his breath.

"Yeah, you too," he finally says, then ends the call. Tooru sighs, dropping his phone on the couch next to him. He's probably going to sleep on the couch tonight, or at least part of it. He knows he should move, but he doesn't want to.

Sleep is elusive. He dozes, not quite awake, not quite asleep and unable to actually turn his brain off. Sometimes, after hard practices, he gets like this, feeling as if he is supposed to be doing something that he isn't. In high school, it had spurred him into watching opponent videos, sneaking out late at night to practice serving. This time, though, he's pretty sure the feeling revolves around Hajime.

Ever since they were little, Tooru knew he and Hajime were meant to be together. Sometimes, he wonders if they're supposed to be platonic soulmates, but every time he thinks back to high school, experimenting with his sexuality and constantly at odds with Hajime when it came to romance, he doesn't think that's it. He loves any time they spend together, and it's not like they haven't tested their compatibility before (they are very compatible).

But their link mark hasn't shown up, and Tooru can't help but think it's his fault. If he didn't feel like there was more for him, if he had just accepted Hajime as his soulmate sooner, if Hajime didn't have a damn airplane on his skin showing how far Tooru was ready to run away from his feelings, maybe they'd _know_ for sure.

Hajime had told him, over and over before giving up entirely, that it didn't matter whether they were soulmates. That they would still work out, together, as friends or partners.

He should have listened.

Instead, he had gone behind Hajime's back, getting all the way to signing with a team clear across the world before even thinking about how to approach Hajime about it.

By then, it was too late.

He remembers how Hajime had burst into his room, face harsh and unfamiliar, scarier than any time he had dragged Tooru away from the gym or scolded him for his poor judgement.

 _Why did you even ask me to be your boyfriend if you were just going to leave_? Hajime had asked, his voice shaking with anger.

 _I don't know what you're talking about,_ Tooru had said, the first thing that had come to mind.

It had been the worst thing to say. Hajime's expression had fallen, and he looked so disappointed Tooru had wanted to hide from it, never wanted to see that particular look turned on him again. It made him physically sick. _Whatever. I can't do this anymore._

It was Tooru's worst fear realized, Hajime turning his back on him, turning away from their relationship. He had reached out, latching onto Hajime's shirt. _Please, Iwa-chan, don't leave, let's talk, this is all I've ever wanted..._

He was such a liar.

Tooru squeezes his eyes shut as if that will help get rid of these thoughts, but he knows that now that they have started, they won't stop until he plays through all of them, allowing every feeling of guilt and sickness to permeate his thoughts until he finds the strength to snap out of it. It doesn't happen nearly as often as it used to, but every once in a while, he remembers, and this is always the worst part.

Hajime turning back to him, their gazes clashing, Tooru changing all his fright to anger as he glared at Hajime, Hajime still upset with whatever he'd come to confront Tooru about.

 _You're going to tell me that this mark isn't because you decided to take that offer I asked you about? The one you expressly told me you weren't going to take?_ Hajime tore at his shirt collar, pulling it down far enough that Tooru could see his shoulder, where an airplane had appeared.

A cold knot had settled in his stomach. If he hadn't believed they were soulmates before this, now he truly did. _Please, Iwa-chan, I didn't want you to think I was leaving you...That you weren't what I've wanted forever..._

 _Well. Clearly, I wasn't enough_.

Tooru forces himself to sit up and open his eyes. His throat still feels tight with the panic he had been reliving, but at least fully conscious he can see how he is wallowing in these feelings. They’d resolved that argument years ago. Hajime had apologized, and so had Tooru, and that had been that. He stands up, physically shakes his head, then his shoulders. It helps to relieve the anxiety a little. 

He grabs a glass of water from the kitchen before making his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He gets on his phone and pulls up his plane ticket confirmation as if to prove to himself that, soon, he will be going back to Hajime. His soulmate. The only thing he knows he has wanted to stay in his life forever.

* * *

Wakatoshi leads a simple yet rewarding life. Every weekday morning he wakes up, eats breakfast, and works out at the gym for two hours, sometimes with teammates and sometimes by himself. Afterwards, there is usually practice to attend. He has played on various teams since high school ended, but playing for the Schweiden Adlers has been his favorite experience so far. He also has sponsorship meetings and photo shoots littered throughout the week that he finds enjoyable, for the most part. Saturdays are spent solely on volleyball and training. Sunday is his only free day, and he spends it prepping for the week ahead--getting meals ready, organizing his schedule, balancing his budget, and then the rest of the day he is free to catch up with friends and family.

He leads a very fortunate life. He wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Seeing Iwaizumi in the café three weeks ago, so distracted he hadn’t even noticed Ushijima as he’d held open the door for him, had been a very strange experience. Generally, Wakatoshi was not a shy person. He said hi to acquaintances when he saw them around town, asked them about their families or how their week was going, but with Iwaizumi it felt different. Almost like those cliché butterflies mentioned in romantic novels. He didn’t understand what it meant, so he didn’t think about it again, choosing to push the almost run-in to the side and go on with his life as normal.

That was, until he saw Iwaizumi in the café the following week as well, and now he had Iwaizumi’s number tucked away in his phone.

For a few weeks after the run-in, nothing much changes other than the fact that Wakatoshi and Iwaizumi text fairly often. Every time the chime of a message sounds, that same fluttering sensation from their initial run-in tightens Wakatoshi’s stomach. He has not felt it for a long time; it had been distinctly reserved for Oikawa, in fact, since the first time he had seen him in middle school.

Age had only made Oikawa more attractive to Wakatoshi, and all the more frustrating. He clearly wore his heart on his sleeve, always with his spiker Iwaizumi, displaying his soulmarks proudly where others would hide them. Wakatoshi could recall numerous times he had watched Iwaizumi run to catch up to Oikawa, knock shoulders with him, scowl at something Oikawa said. The two of them moved around each other perfectly in sync, off the court as well as on it. They looked like they belonged together.

It was very surprising to hear Iwaizumi’s confession that night about the fact that they were not soulmates. Or, at least, that it was more complicated than it appeared.

“Do you have a new friend, Ushiwaka-san?” Kageyama asks one day as they exit the locker room of the gym. Kageyama and Wakatoshi worked out together often, as they had a very similar regime and Kageyama is generally quiet, which Wakatoshi appreciates. 

“Not really,” Wakatoshi hedges, slipping his phone back into his pocket, the last message from Iwaizumi asking him about getting dinner unanswered. They haven’t really made plans together like that before, and a strange, guilty feeling clogs Wakatoshi’s throat at the thought. He has genuine interest in creating a friendship with Iwaizumi, truly, but sometimes it is hard to set aside the fact that Wakatoshi had been drawn to Oikawa first. It almost feels like stealing, but from who or what he doesn’t know.

Kageyama studies him with those unnerving blue eyes before shrugging, turning and leading the way to the bench press. Wakatoshi trails after him, watching as he gets situated and starts his reps.

“You know Iwaizumi Hajime, don’t you?” Wakatoshi asks suddenly. “You went to school with him.”

Kageyama grunts an acknowledgement as he finishes his set and puts the bar back into place. “Yes, middle school,” he says. “I like Iwaizumi-san. He’s nice. Is that who you’re talking to?”

Wakatoshi nods. Kageyama starts into his second set instead of answering. Wakatoshi assumes Kageyama is done with the conversation after minutes go by without an answer, but after his third rep Kageyama abruptly says, “Oikawa-san being in Argentina has been hard on Iwaizumi-san. He works at an office close to Sugawara-san’s hospital so they get lunch together sometimes.”

Sugawara is someone who considers all his acquaintances friends, and as such has an arsenal of knowledge at his fingertips. It doesn’t surprise Wakatoshi that Sugawara knows Iwaizumi, but it does surprise him that Iwaizumi has admitted to his feelings so openly. Wakatoshi finds it hard to express his loneliness sometimes, and instead prefers to bury it under practices and extra workout sessions.

Kageyama finishes his last set, then moves so Wakatoshi can do his. He mulls over the tiny bit of information Kageyama had provided about Iwaizumi as he lifts the bar, the up and down rhythm soothing and predictable. Kageyama doesn’t talk for the rest of their workout, which leaves Wakatoshi ample time to think.

Afterward, they shower and change in their usual silence. Wakatoshi pulls out his phone and texts Iwaizumi that yes, he would like to get dinner with him that night.

***

Iwaizumi is late. “Sorry,” he pants with a self-conscious smile when he meets Wakatoshi on the street outside the soba place they had agreed to meet at. “The bus was late. I shouldn’t have dropped my stuff off at my apartment.”

“It’s perfectly all right,” Wakatoshi answers. He appraises Iwaizumi’s outfit, his dark jeans that frame his legs very well, the nice maroon button-down shirt with the top two buttons undone, the black sneakers he wears in lieu of dressier shoes. He looks very nice. “Shall we go in?”

“Yes,” Iwaizumi answers, holding the door open for Wakatoshi.

They order quickly and sit. After they exchange pleasantries and ask after each other’s day, it is quiet between them. Iwaizumi fidgets with his napkin, eyes roaming the restaurant, looking anywhere but Wakatoshi.

Wakatoshi decides he will have to be the one to break the ice between them. “Iwaizumi, what are you studying in school?”

“Physical therapy,” he says, his nervous eyes landing back on Wakatoshi. “I’m almost done actually--just three semesters to go.”

Wakatoshi nods. “I thought I heard that is what you were doing. Are you planning on working in the sports field, or do you have another route in mind?”

Iwaizumi chuckles. Wakatoshi had always seen Iwaizumi as stoic and intense, but outside of the volleyball court he is loose with his happiness, which eases Wakatoshi’s nerves. “I’ve always wanted to work with athletes. I watched so many work themselves too hard or not understand how to take care of themselves. I want to work with professionals for a while, but eventually I hope to settle down and focus on working with high schoolers. But in order to do any of that, I have to get through school first.”

Iwaizumi makes a face, and Wakatoshi finds himself smiling. “Will you tell me your favorite part about it?”

Their food arrives as Iwaizumi is in the middle of his answer to Wakatoshi’s question. The interruption seems to remind Iwaizumi that he has done most of the talking, so he cuts his answer short and asks Wakatoshi, “What about you? How’s volleyball treating you?”

“Oh, I enjoy volleyball immensely,” Wakatoshi answers. He tells Iwaizumi in halting sentences his day-to-day life, how he has grown close to the team over the past two seasons, how he had struggled the first two years of his professional career to make friends and keep up with the professionals who were much more skilled than he was. “Playing with Kageyama as a setter is very satisfying,” he concludes. “I have learned a lot from him.”

“I’m sure it is,” Iwaizumi says. “I haven’t played with him since middle school, but it was good back then too. Don’t tell Oikawa I said that, though, I’ll get nothing but whining from him for a week.”

“Oikawa is an enigma,” Wakatoshi says. Iwaizumi raises his eyebrows. He is quick to elaborate. “Kageyama has said multiple times that he has Oikawa to thank for most of his skills, and he brought out the best of every player under his tutelage at Seijoh. So he likes to help people. But he doesn’t act like he does. He acts as if everyone is his enemy, which is odd to me.”

Iwaizumi takes a few bites of his food before answering. “Tooru doesn’t have a lot of self-confidence. He puts on a really good front, but he has a lot of insecurities he hides with his posturing. And it’s so stupid, because he’s so talented!” Wakatoshi is surprised by Iwaizumi’s sudden outburst. He sits quiet as Iwaizumi continues. “He works himself so hard, lives and breathes volleyball, but there’s always someone better than him, or something he can’t get after hours of practice, or some reason why he has to push himself so hard. It’s just...it’s exhausting. 

“And the whole soulmate fiasco,” Iwaizumi sighs, putting his chopsticks down, leaning back into his seat. Wakatoshi’s eyes subconsciously trail to the tiny ring of volleyballs on Iwaizumi’s thumb. “He wants it so badly, feels like the reason we aren’t soulmates is because it’s somehow his fault. I don’t know how to help him through that, and it sucks. I can yell at him all day about taking care of his body or getting enough sleep or to stop watching so many clips of his opponents, but I can’t make him see that being soulmates isn’t the end-all be-all of our relationship. That...That maybe we aren’t soulmates, and that’s okay.”

Wakatoshi blinks, trying to absorb all the information that had been thrown at him. “Shit,” Iwaizumi says, as if realizing what he’d just done. “I shouldn’t have said all of that. I don’t know what came over me, I’m sorry…”

“It is all right,” Wakatoshi says. “I am honored that you would feel comfortable enough around me to share something so personal.”

Iwaizumi shrugs, glancing back down at his food. Wakatoshi sees that there is color in his cheeks as he says, “You’re surprisingly easy to talk to. But I don’t want you to think that I just want to be your friend to vent about Tooru, since I’ve done it twice now. I mean, sure, he’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but he’s mine, you know? Regardless of soulmarks.”

“Oikawa is very beautiful,” Wakatoshi says without thinking. His face is red, he can tell from the heat that has gathered in his cheeks. He wonders what they must look like, two college-age students blushing and pointedly not looking at each other. They probably look like they’re on a date. “His self-confidence. The way he moves on the volleyball court. It is very alluring.”

“He has a way of burrowing under your skin, doesn’t he?” Iwaizumi says with a soft smile. “Anyway, enough about Tooru. I need to get back to studying. I have a test tomorrow.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Wakatoshi asks, not wanting to part ways yet.

Iwaizumi starts to say no, but pauses. “Um, well. If you want to go through flashcards with me, that would help. I can make tea.”

“Tea sounds lovely,” Wakatoshi says. They settle the bill quickly, and Wakatoshi follows Iwaizumi home. 

It is not until hours later, when Wakatoshi is in his own bed, that he realizes he had spent more time with Iwaizumi that night than he has anyone else who isn’t one of his trainers or teammates. He isn’t sure what that means, but he is excited at the prospect of more time together.

***

It is very easy to allow Iwaizumi into his daily routine. They are both busy, but sometimes Wakatoshi invites Iwaizumi to dinner at his apartment, and Iwaizumi will ask Wakatoshi if he wants to grab a coffee before they go their separate ways. Once, Iwaizumi answers a video call from Oikawa while they are leaving a late lunch together, and Wakatoshi sees Oikawa for the first time in five years, albeit on a grainy video screen. He is the same haughty, petty person Wakatoshi knew in high school, but he doesn’t seem too put-out that Wakatoshi has to entertain him while Iwaizumi runs to the bathroom.

It must be early in the morning in Argentina because it is still dark in the window behind Oikawa. Oikawa is dressed in a baggy t-shirt that slips off his shoulder whenever he moves, and Wakatoshi keeps getting distracted by the swath of skin it displays. He has a mark there, a fading book of some sort, by the looks of it. “You two have been seeing a lot of each other, hmm?” Oikawa finally asks. 

Wakatoshi shifts his attention back to Oikawa’s eyes. He is wearing glasses, which Wakatoshi finds oddly captivating. “Yes, I guess we have.” He doesn’t miss the disappointment on Oikawa’s face when he answers, the way his eyes shift to the side and his long fingers tighten on the mug of tea he is currently drinking. “We do not do much besides eat and study, don’t worry.”

“Hajime would go to the gym with you if you asked or would go on a run in the park,” Oikawa says after a few seconds of strange silence. He doesn’t look up at the screen. His finger trails along the rim of the mug in a constant circle. “He likes that, especially when he’s stressed.”

Before Wakatoshi can ask any follow up questions to Oikawa’s suggestion, Iwaizumi is back. He says goodbye to Oikawa and passes the phone to Iwaizumi. He tries not to listen to their conversation--it’s not personal, per se, but it still feels like intruding.

“See you soon, yeah?” Iwaizumi finally says.

“One more month! I can’t wait to see you. And Ushiwaka-chan, you’d better make time for me too, since you’ve monopolized my soulmate!”

“Oh,” Wakatoshi stutters out, “Okay.”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Bye, you idiot. Go back to sleep, it’s three in the morning!”

“Ah, always my mom, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says with a cheeky grin, ending the call as Iwaizumi stutters curses at him.

Wakatoshi can’t help it--he chuckles. Iwaizumi turns to him with a curious expression on his face. Wakatoshi stops immediately, suddenly self-conscious. “I have to get to practice.”

He says goodbye quickly, but he’s distracted as he makes his way into the gym. In the locker room, he tells Kageyama that he spoke with Oikawa. He doesn’t know when Kageyama became a confidant for all his friendship issues, but so far Kageyama hasn’t asked him to stop, so he’ll probably continue. 

Kageyama hums, noncommittal, but studies Wakatoshi the way he studies new volleyball players--intense, unblinking, unnerving. After a few seconds, Kageyama points out a new soulmark that has taken residence on the back of Wakatoshi’s neck, close to his ear. It appears to be two cupped hands reaching out in a gesture of offering. Wakatoshi tries to convince himself that it could have been there this morning, but he knows it wasn’t. Iwaizumi probably would have said something.

They don’t say anything more about it the rest of practice. Wakatoshi feels restless and he isn’t sure why. He knows that his productivity is lower than usual, which frustrates him, but no one else seems bothered by it. He’s immensely relieved when practice finally draws to a close.

Kageyama waits for him to finish up in the locker room. They usually walk together to the bus stop, where Kageyama gets on and Wakatoshi continues to his apartment.

“Iwaizumi-san is waiting for you.”

Wakatoshi’s head jerks up. He glances around the open doorway and sees that yes, Iwaizumi is leaning against the wall to the entrance of the gym, scrolling through his phone as he waits. Kageyama doesn’t say anything more, just gives Wakatoshi another piercing look. He shifts uncomfortably, then fidgets with his bag, taking extra care to secure it on his shoulder. 

“You know,” Kageyama says finally, “my senpai at Karasuno were soulmates. Sawamura-san and Sugawara-san and Asahi-san. The three of them together.”

Wakatoshi blinks, so many questions crowding in his mind that he can’t say anything. Kageyama continues staring at Wakatoshi for a few more seconds, then picks up his own sports bag. “No matter what people say, each soulmate bond is different. Why can’t yours be unique as well?”

With that, Kageyama turns and leaves. Wakatoshi watches as he walks away, waving at Iwaizumi as he passes him. Iwaizumi’s smile lights up his face as he stands straight. He stops Kageyama to speak with him, coaxing the usually reticent setter into a conversation. 

“It was nice to see you,” Kageyama is saying when Wakatoshi finally moves within hearing range.

“You too, Kageyama. I look forward to watching you play some day soon.”

Kageyama waves awkwardly before darting out the door. Iwaizumi’s smile is fond as he watches Kageyama leave. “He’s always been quiet.”

“We are similar that way,” Wakatoshi says. Iwaizumi puts an arm around his shoulders in a quick side-hug. It’s another new thing that Wakatoshi has become accustomed to. “It is not always easy to converse with others.”

“Agreed, but you’ve been doing a good job with me.” Wakatoshi feels his cheeks warm as Iwaizumi nudges him in the side with his elbow. “I know we just saw each other this afternoon, but you don’t usually have practice this late and I have leftover chicken if you want to come over and eat.”

This has happened more often than Wakatoshi wants to admit--Iwaizumi meeting him spontaneously after practice. It’s a little out of Wakatoshi’s comfort zone, but he also likes it and so he doesn’t say anything, just nods.

As he follows Iwaizumi to his apartment, listening to him talk about what he did while Wakatoshi was a practice, he thinks about what Kageyama had said, about his three senpai being soulmates, about how each soulmate bond is different. He looks at the three gears on Iwaizumi’s bicep so similar to his own, the ones he noticed only recently. “When did you get that mark?”

Iwaizumi looks down at the mark on his arm, then chuckles softly. “I was fourteen. Tooru had just had a meltdown in the gym about not beating you, actually. He’ll hate me for telling you, but he almost hit Kageyama he was so upset. I yelled at him about teamwork and gave him a bloody nose. But that night I had these gears on my arm and then next day, he was back to his usual bright-eyed self. Apparently my speech about teamwork worked.”

Iwaizumi reaches a hand up to brush along the gears. 

“You love him very much.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes raise to meet Wakatoshi’s. “Yeah,” he says, his voice almost painfully fond. “Yeah, I guess I do, as much as I don’t want to admit it. I just wish it were easier, you know? It never has been, between us. Not like...Not like it seems to be with you.”

Wakatoshi rubs absently at the volleyballs around his ring finger. The words Kageyama had said to him, about his three senpai being soulmates, echo in his mind. Before, he would have brushed his and Iwaizumi’s similar marks off as coincidence. But now.

Now he kind of hopes.

“Would you like to come to a game?” Wakatoshi asks suddenly. Iwaizumi glances over at him, eyes wide. “We are playing next week. It would be nice for you to be there.”

There are a lot of unknown variables in this situation Wakatoshi has found himself in. He does not know what Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s relationship is exactly, if this is something they talked about, if they are together, if the two of them were open to dating another person, either separately or together. He doesn’t know if he wants to date two people. His whole life up until this point has been predictable, orderly.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi answers. “Yeah, I’d love to come watch you play.”

Wakatoshi has never been one to take chances. But with this new hope kindling in his chest, he finds that maybe, he wants to.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comments/kudos always appreciated!
> 
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